Come with me and I think you'll agree: My life is proof of God's sense of humor.

Sep 30, 2010

Bits & Pieces...

I wrote half an awesome post about making a chicken-liver mousse a week ago, but haven't had the chance to finish it (the post; not the mousse). I had a fabulous Glee viewing party for the season premiere, so I thought why not make an over-the-top dish for such an over-the-top show. I've always hated beef liver, but Alton Brown swears that chickens & ducks don't live long enough for their livers to get all "funky." Well guess what--Alton must have a pretty specific definition in mind for "funky," because there was a whole lotta funk going on in my liver mousse (I attempted to call it pate with a fancy mark over the 'e' before realizing the fancy name wouldn't compensate for the taste). I really, really wanted to like it, because I like the idea of using the whole animal--or at least more of it--and less waste and all that, and I was self-righteously wondering why we don't do that as much anymore. I know now--it's because some of the parts of the animal are so dang gross. I made my pregnant friend gag just by tasting the mousse in front of her. For the slightest moment in time I almost didn't hate it on a Ritz cracker. But then I did. No more liver of any type. Ever. LiverWORST, indeed...

...Last weekend they had Parents' Night Out at the Methodist church. This is where the Methodists provide childcare to the community for the evening on a (suggested--and more than reasonable) donation basis. It's an incredibly good deal, and even the Littler One is starting to do much better being left with people other than me, so we are trying to take advantage of these kid-free opportunities more often. And what did the Cat Daddy and I do? Grabbed a quick bite at Chipotle and went home to clean out the garage. Scoff if you must, but we had a great time and got a lot done ("We can get so much done without the kids!" we kept saying). So much so, in fact, that the Cat Daddy can park his car in there now. We were all proud of ourselves, and even swept the garage floor before treating ourselves to ice cream and picking up the kiddos. In that order.

His Highness was not impressed in the least. It disturbed him greatly for Mommy's car to now park on the other side of the driveway (in Daddy's spot), and for Daddy's car to be in the garage. He really wanted us to put the cars back where they belonged. We made a deal with him to let us try it for a week and see what he thought after that. He was very kind and agreed to this trial period, and I think it will work out. I think he actually likes it. He has more room in the driveway to draw with his chalk, and we can tell sooner when Daddy gets home because we hear the garage door open.

It made me think a lot about how grown-ups will see a kid deal with something like this, and we'll think, "Ah, it was so nice when I was a kid and my only problem was..." or "Oh I wish that was all I had to worry about," because our problems are so much bigger and more important. And the more I think about it, the more I think we, the grown-ups, have it wrong. I think a lot of our problems are really, really similar to those of a three-year-old, but they look a little different, and on our good days we have more maturity with which to handle them.

What I mean is, what His Highness was protesting was the change in his environment. We took something familiar to him, something he could count on within the structure of his day, and changed it up on him, and he freaked out a little bit. This is exactly how I tend to react when my world gets a little disturbance in it. I remember a few years back, when I'd been with my company just shy of a year, and my boss(es) called me in and told me I was being switched from one project to a completely different one, AND I would be moving from my office over to the base & everything. I very-nearly cried...I like to think I held it together pretty well, but I know I had the deer-in-the-headlights look because my boss asked if everything was alright. I mumbled something about having to process it all. Which actually was pretty dead-on. In the end it worked out beautifully and I was so glad things happened the way they did; I just had to get through my initial panic and give myself a chance to get used to the change.

And then, of course, I think a lot of times we are really no different than three-year-olds; we just hide our tantrums better. Maybe. A few previous lives ago (during college) I worked in a call center at Bank of America, and our department heads decided that everyone would have to start working Sundays. Oh boy, the uproar that caused. I was out the day of the official announcement, so I was reeling and ranting when I came back to this news. "But I'm really plugged in at my church--I have real commitments!" To which an older co-worker gently-but-firmly replied "You're not the only one, honey." Well, luckily one of the supervisors was kind enough to notice my concern and pull me aside and explain the whole picture. It turned out that most of us would work, like, one Sunday every two months, and we would know ahead of time so we could coordinate with church commitments, and all that. When he took the time to tell me how the management had arrived at this arrangement it seemed pretty dang reasonable to me. I always appreciated that he did that for me. I was able to avoid acting like a complete idiot at work by trying to make some kind of loud and grandiose ultimatum or something...which actually would have been pretty disingenuous of me, because in retrospect I think I was a lot less worried about working on a Sunday, and a lot more worried about having no control in the situation. I don't know if my supervisor recognized this about me, but he gave the control back to me. Empowerment, and all that.

Anyway. As any reasonable parent would, I think my kids are adorable, and sometimes I can't help but smile at their tragedies. But I hope I never get too patronizing to see the very real places where their pain comes from and remember that I have those same places, just with different triggers. Besides, the only reason I don't freak out anymore about things like changing parking arrangements is that I have the experience to know that it usually works out OK (and I still cried a little bit when I gave up my '90 Honda Accord, even though my new CRV was kicka$$)...

...I've been on this life-simplification kick, and my house is starting to stay a little cleaner. Not a lot cleaner, and not all the time. But I think it's fair to say that it's a complete disaster less often...

...My friend has been watching the boys several hours per week so I can get my nerd-work done a little less frantically. The Littler One loves her like a third parent, and he's getting much less anxious about being with people other than Mommy. Today I dropped him off, kissed him on the head, and said goodbye instead of sneaking out. He waved and happily went back to his chicken nuggets. Ms. Sitter told me later she was wondering if he would cry when he realized I was really leaving, but he didn't. He knew he was safe & secure with Ms. Sitter and did great (and was his ornery self) the whole afternoon. That made me happy.

We've also been transitioning him more to his own space at night. He starts out in the guest bed now, the way His Highness did before he got his bunk beds. And anytime he stirs before midnight the Cat Daddy soothes him back to sleep. It took about two tries before he realized he wasn't getting to nurse, so now he's staying asleep until after midnight pretty consistently. Next step is moving the no-nursing time back gradually, but I'll wait until the Cat Daddy's ready for that one...

...So all-told I am getting more routine back in my life, and inserting more into my boys' lives. It feels good, as I do thrive on routine and consistency, and I like to think I've got a decent balance about it. I could probably afford to be more structured even, but let's not get ahead of ourselves...

Folks I Frequent

Fantastic Finds

Comment Policy

Please be kind. Like, super-kind. If you have a question, feel free to ask. If you have a differing viewpoint and can share it KINDLY, feel free. If you are concerned about my salvation (or want me to be LESS concerned about mine), or want to incite drama or tell me something "for my own good," send it in an email (skerri_bATyahooDOTcom). If you just plain don't like me and/or my blog, maybe just click on through to a different blog altogether--we'll both be happier. If you choose to disregard this request, the consequences may range from comment editing/removal to overall banning. And probably a figurative kick to the shins. I don't usually get TOO serious, but I will in order to keep this a safe place for all.

Extra Text

I just thought it would be really interesting to add some text here, to make my page more symmetric next to my comment policy over there. Which I was serious about, by the way. We nervous-types get riled up pretty easily, and really who needs that? I sure don't. I mean, I write about a cat named Nipples, for goodness' sake. Obviously I'm not going for scholarly discussion here (but if it pops up every so often that's OK). There are lots of venues for debate and sharpening your skills and all that, and that's OK; it really is. It's just that this is not that place. This is where we laugh at ourselves and tell each other how great we are, without being fake or sugary. There's a skill for you--now go practice.